Goin' Steady
by garfunky
Summary: F3AU - flw x B. DeLoria. Follows original plot-line of the game but is rewritten to fit the universe; set in a kitschy apartment complex that goes up instead of down. Block 101 is a private oasis in the wastes - fixed with fake grass and electric stars, 'fresh' air and fried food. Our Lone Wanderer is a grumpy teenage girl in denial and our leading lad is our rebel without a cause.
1. one

_SO HELLO GUYS_

_IT HAS BEEN FAR __**TOO **__**LONG**__ SINCE I HAVE BEEN HERE. CAPITAL LETTERS FEEL APPROPRIATE BECAUSE TO BE HONEST I AM EXCITED FOR THIS STORY._

_We'll be sticking with Pepper for this one. If you are familiar with my other Butch/FLW story, you'd be familiar with Pepper - but if you're already thinking at this is going to be the same story all over again, I want to point at that with the AU shift there has been a large character overhaul on her behalf. She'll still be the same dry-mouthed wanderer, but a little softer around the edges considering the main storyline hasn't even begun to start in this little novella you're about to read._

_This is probably gonna be one of those sweet teenage-ery love stories too, so get ready for a lot of nervous girlies and bad-ass little boys. Oh, and I've had to pack Block 101 with a few faceless extras, just to make it fit a little more. Also, I have a big playlist for this story and it's basically a lot of 50s/60s diner music so if you want it please hit me up cause it keeps me cheery. _

**THEM THERE EYES - BILLIE HOLIDAY**

_(it's a great song plz believe)_

* * *

A group of boys stood guffawing under dusty pink neon, leant up against the tables while spitting uncomfortable jokes at each other – waiting by the door to pick through the crowd. Their jackets (leather, of course) were strapped under pipboys that told them it was almost time to get out to the old autoshop for the night – embroidered with a coolly coiled snake that still looked kind of menacing under the fluorescent light. The girls had pressed their skirts for the occasion – laughing happily at the attention and mixing tales with the other kids who had wandered in from the block.

It was a usual Friday night at Eddie's, the neon glow pulsing against the chequered linoleum pressed with the feet of 101's youth population. It was busy, as usual – sparked with the smell of freshly cooked food and barely hidden cigarette smoke. Sodas and milkshakes slid across benches in exchange for a coupl'a cents as girls blushed under dingy counter lights – boys hands palmed down in between friends to cull the herd.

"Why do we even come here?" Bundling up some excess skirt, the girl slid into the seat with a huff. She could feel the hair on the back of her neck prickling with annoyance.

"You can't let them walk all over you, Amata." Pepper forced herself into the smooth red booth. The countertop was cool and glossy, probably just cleaned by one of the buzzing Mrs Handys that were hanging around. "Gotta show those low-lives that it's not okay to treat you like that."

"And what about me?" Freddie was scratching cola from his shirt, pulling himself in beside Amata. The girl nudged him gently with her shoulder in a weak apology – he was always picked on by those jerks. They probably could smell the awkwardness that reeked from his pores.

"Same to you." Pepper placed her palms flat on the table, stretching out her fingers in a vicious battle plan. The two stared blankly back at her. "Just because you don't wanna fight the big jerk doesn't mean you can't destroy him with words."

"Words are no match to that dang blade he carries around." Amata mumbled – picking out the raggedy and old laminated menu.

"Like he would really use it." The gangly one replied, earning a grin from Pepper. "He ain't scared to use his fists though." He lost his approval, receiving a soft glare from his two friends. "What? You're lucky he doesn't beat on girls."

"Right," Amata clarified sourly, "he only trips and humiliates them."

"What a man." Pepper rolled her eyes, searching the floor for the dirty set of boots that had started the whole fiasco. Travelling up a pair of legs covered by particularly cuffed jeans, she found who she was looking for. And he was exactly where she thought he would be – pressing his hand over Susie Mack's shoulder while her brother went a little green in the face.

Butch DeLoria turned his neck to shoot a word at Paul Hannon, laughing about something probably stupid before catching her stare. He gave her one of his smug grins – like he always did when he passed her anywhere – and she scowled back, although after he had turned back around. Pepper bristled awkwardly. What a… Gosh, what a jerk!

A slim-looking Mrs Handy appeared at their table – her claws pinched around a crisp notebook and pen that were purely for show. "Now what can I get you kids tonight?" Her robotic voice burbled with a generous drawl – the comfort setting cranked at its highest in attempt to keep the rowdy kids at bay. That could be blamed on Wally Mack, who had left a boot mark in the back of one three months ago.

"Three sodas." Pepper pushed out a quarter of her pocket money – picking up the thick piece in wait for the transaction. "Please."

"Oh, and some fries if you could." Freddie pitched in with a dollar note. "Please." The politeness pleased Amata greatly, relaxing the girl a little to the point where she leant back into the seat.

Trading her coin for Freddie's note, Pepper gently fed the paper into the robots sweet little apron – watching the green slip in slowly. She liked spending money – and she especially loved the sound of the change clinking into small chamber to be collected by her ready fingers.

The metal was cool between her forefinger and thumb as the passed it back to her pale counterpart – the boy grinning at her before snatching it back.

"Drool harder, Pep." Slipping it into his pocket, he leant his elbows on the table. Amata laughed at the tired look on Pepper's face and sighed, placing her chin on her fist and propping it up with the bend in her arm. As the Mrs Handy floated away, the three teens looked at each other and grinned. "Oh, uh, and did you hear my dad singing in the shower again last night?" He paused. "I'm so sorry."

"He's getting better." Amata giggled fondly at her friend, Pepper grimacing awkwardly.

"I didn't, no…" She grinned through the embarrassment. "But I did hear about half an hour of the soothing sounds of crushed glass churning in the garbage unit."

"Has Butch's mom been on a bender again?" The other girl asked, perking with the adrenalin of such a taunt. She squeaked at the instant guilt. "Oh, I shouldn't have said that. She's so nice."

"When she's sober." Pepper shrugged. "You don't get to hear the fights between them. Some nights I'm sure his bedroom door comes off the hinges."

Freddie flinched. "That has to suck."

"I would feel bad…" Pepper caught the heels of his dirty boots again and ran her eyes up to the leather jacket – etched with an equally dirty looking snake. "But he's a real jackass."

"Your language is getting worse," Amata huffed at her, earning a nudge from Freddie. The boy pointed out the scowl on their more contemptuous friend, eyes peering into the other side of the room with some form of disdain oozing from them. There was always some form of tension thronging between Butch and Pepper – and they assumed it was just because they were neighbours.

With only a metre or three separating their doors, the Sheridan and DeLoria families were located on the ground level of their respective apartment block. The residents in this block, basically a systematic gated community that went up instead of across, were all somethingth generation offspring of their ancestors, who crawled up from their shelters into an old apartment building.

For some reason, Pepper and that scumbag near the jukebox were sitting on the bottom of the food chain – just above the gloomy basement and the cranky garbage disposal unit. Amata was top floor with her father, Freddie sitting on third. The kids of the families never exactly saw the point of elitism within the block, but most of the adults had carried the burden of self-doubt for longer than they had lived.

How she and DeLoria had been equalled was beyond her – like honestly, her father was a 24-hour doctor to that place and yet they had been shoved down with the creaky main door and the churning trash disposal that smelt horrible between the hours of 1 to 5am. Whatever anyway, she didn't like how the elevator squealed when it got cold at night. First floor was safest.

Pupils dilating with shock and shame, the girl froze up when she realised he had caught her again. How long had she been scowling? Did she just put out an open invitation for him to come and bother him? That stupid grin on his face answered her question.

His palm left the wall and Susie Mack's bubble burst with a hollow _pop_, leaving her nose splotched with a sticky pink. Pepper groaned and sunk in her seat, hoping that if she sat low enough he would leave her alone. When had that ever worked?

"Why did you do that?" Freddie asked. "I can see my food. He's going to steal my food."

"He won't." Pepper groaned into her chest, stretching back up to a straight posture as the soles of the snake's boots skipped up the two stairs towards them. The group of boys near the jukebox quietened a little, leaving the three to stew in their own self-pity. God, why was it always them?

"Try'n to catch my attention, nosebleed?" Butch took a seat on the edge of their table, leaning back on the balls of his palms to get them all in view. So casual – so cool – so pretentious and rude. "Amata," he nodded slyly at the girl before eyeing the boy. "Freddie."

"Go away, Butch." The nicest of the three shot back, leaving Pepper in the dirt as she tried to think of something quick and witty. Not like it was working. At all.

"Yeah! Buzz off, Butch, there's no need to be here." Freddie evened his eyes at the young man before the greaser simply snorted - barely moving just enough to avoid the tray loaded full of sodas and fries for the three. His brows quirked.

"Now if ya didn't want me over here, then why'd you buy me food?" He thanked the whirring robot childishly to avoid confrontation, stealing a soda for his own. "I'll take yours, nosebleed, you don't need the extra sugar."

Pepper scowled harder.

"Get lost, loser." She spoke sharply. As it was mentioned, the tension between the two always seemed to spark a little - and as much as they both had other friends and relationships, there was something a little special about being neighbours. Your friends never had to hear the audible details of your life at home, but your neighbours did. There was a sudden subtle understanding of each other, even when they were kids.

Didn't stop the asshole from keeping up appearances though. He had a stereotype to fit, and it was some-kind-of gang enthusiast with the nicest hair for miles. He pulled it off, sure, but it often threw Pepper and her friends under the wheels.

He took an overzealous swig of the bottle and slipped from the table. "Hey fellas!" Butch caught the attention of the group of leather-clad jerks from the other side of the diner. "Our friends bought us dinner!" The snake shifted his jacket on his shoulders and grinned at the three, joined by Wally Mack and Paul Hannon, half a dough-faced mess and the other just slightly embarrassed.

Paul had always been nice to Pepper - he was more kind-hearted than the other two and often singled her out when they were alone and apologised. Amata was fuming, but Pepper knew she was going to get the money back at the end of the night. She always did.

Tugging his collar, the leader of the pack sauntered off towards his main squeeze, Wally ducking down to snatch the tray of their freshly arrived snacks with a smart wink. Freddie wheezed unhappily at the speckled table top - Pepper sinking into her seat for the second time that night before letting out a soft whine.

"Wanna go for a walk or somethin'?" The boy asked, kinda humiliated and more than eager to leave. "The theatre's playing _Creature from Lake Mead_ again."

Pepper jumped willingly from the seat, shoving her hands in her jacket pockets. She was really struck dumb, more angry than anything but still jittery with shame. "Let's split. I'm _sorry_ we even came here." Waving them out with fists full of cotton, the brunette ushered her two friends to the door. "Quick, quick, let's get the heck out of here."

She knew she would feel better about the situation later that night – as by nine o'clock Paul would have given Freddie's money back and the DeLoria residence would be running its late night show. Even while her father read over his consistent stack of research notes in the kitchen while she lay awake in bed, it was still nice to know that someone else had it worse.

* * *

"But-"

"Honey, it's not that big of a job." James Sheridan had his hands wound gently into authoritarian balls that were resting on his hips. Pepper was already heaving the trash bag from the compresser. "Some kids don't eat enough to even fill half that bag – we are lucky to be living in-"

"Then why aren't you running a soup kitchen, dad?" She huffed, tying a knot in the black plastic before dragging it towards the door. Her father just sighed, receiving a grin from the girl before she took her walk to the trash chute. Everyone else in the building had their own dang chute, yet level one seemed to be on the bottom of the list once again. She was not that bothered – it allowed her to get out of the house after curfew.

You had to be quick with the chute, as all the tubes connected into one – so if you weren't vigilant enough, opening the creaky metal drawer would nip and tear whatever was falling in that moment (ending in splattered garbage and stained clothes). The perks of life in apartment block 101.

Pepper crept towards the back hall, dragging the bag along with her.

_Some kids don't even eat enough to fill half of that bag, Pepper – _whatever. Like dad knew what he was talking about some days, considering he was a posh old man who read more than most of the men on floor four. Resident doctor and a saint to the T – Pepper's dad was the bane of her existence some days. He was far too serious and protective towards her, and she needed her breathing room. Always so valiant and kind - irritating almost.

He never got angry with her, just told her he was disappointed – which hurt more than anything and built a strange sort of wall between them. She would rather him blow his top over the silent, sad kind of stare that he gave her when she snapped back at his wise words.

There was a violent rise of angered voices bursting from the DeLoria apartment, a little earlier than Pepper had expected. It froze her in her place, her curiosity getting the best of her once again. The girl loved to hear what Mrs DeLoria had to say to Butch – because most nights it made her feel better about his rudeness. At least someone could take him down a few notches – especially when he slammed his bedroom door so hard it rippled the glass of water on her bedside table.

Right on cue, a door slammed – but it sounded a lot closer than necessary. Scrambling towards the trash chute, the girl pressed away from the disturbance of shoes on floorboards. She didn't need to be caught by Mrs DeLoria – she was harsh when she was drunk and certainly wasn't a fan of her father, so the two joined mixed an angry cocktail of thinly veiled criticisms and backhanded compliments.

She was a nice enough when she was sober, of course, but everyone on the block knew the exact time to avoid the first floor. But tonight it had started early – and Pepper was surprised her father wasn't ushering her back inside by now. He was probably too caught up in his paper work to even notice the angry footsteps that pounded past Unit 2.

Yanking the shaft open, Pepper attempted to press the bag inside the drawer – disgusted by the wobble and clang of another bag hurtling down. The air filled with the smell of dinner scraps, which then of course mixed with the harsh stench of burnt garbage.

The footsteps stopped behind her and she braced herself. Turning slowly, the girl laid her eyes on the heaving boy who was also lugging his fair share of trash bags. They clinked and rattled when he dropped them next to his feet.

"Rummaging for dinner, nosebleed?" He grinned at her, replacing her unsure look with a steely glare.

"Oh, sit on it." She squinted icily at him before sidestepping him – almost meshing with the wall with the distance she felt needed between them. He spun on his heel smartly to follow her with his eyes – letting out a long sigh before she reached her door. The sound caught her stare, giving the boy time to fold his arms across his chest. For the first time in what seemed like at least four years, Pepper saw him without his jacket.

There was obviously some form of comfort in the downstairs hall, seeing as they were surrounded by people like Stanley and the Palmers. Mr Almodovar was a bit of a tyrant when it came to running the block – considering he was 'block captain' – a title that shouldn't have been so serious but apparently it really was. And if that meant sticking the old, sick and more rowdy patrons downstairs, then heck – Block 101 was perfectly structured and running efficiently.

Was that a pack of cigarettes rolled up in his sleeve? Who was Butch DeLoria trying to be? The toothpick turning between his teeth, red welted scratches on the back of his neck from an angry habit he had had forever... The rebel thing was so overplayed and was just a mixture of wishy-washy tactics. At least their overuse of grease was a ten-second warning to evacuate the premises – the pomade tang a clear sign of what was to come.

"Why you keep starin' at me?" He asked her coolly, cutely – and fair too confidently. "Somethin' you should be telling me, babe?"

Pepper didn't like the fact that every time he saw her he located one of her many buttons and pressed them almost too gently, like he liked seeing her bristle uncomfortably and more than unhappily in front of him. Unable to think of any kind of witty response either, Pepper was left to skitter her eyes to the crumpled trash beside him.

"Recycling was last night." She pointed awkwardly at the lump, throwing him off guard with the subtle subject change.

"Yeah well, what am I gonna do with all these bottles?" He sniffed a laugh at her, the grin slipping back onto his face. "Start a shooting range?"

She'd done that once before in the basement – when her dad gave her that BB gun that was now collecting dust in the cupboard. "Sell them?" She squinted at him, as if the answer had been there all along. "You could get at least two dollars for that bag."

"Two whole dollars." He uncrossed his arms and unrolled his sleeve, snatching the packet free to steal himself a smoke. Tucking it behind his ear, he picked up the bag. "Hey Ma!" Butch called softly at the door, still not too keen on prodding the bear any further. Pepper cringed in embarrassment. "Our problems are solved! Nosebleed says if we could sell of all your hard work we could make stacks." He paused, only to laugh at her – earning himself the sharpest of looks she could muster.

"Well maybe with a little more money you could afford a better personality, you jerk!"

"My _feelings._" He touched his chest, throwing the bag back over his shoulder – toothpick spat off to the side. "I really think I'm gonna cry." The grin slipped off his face and he cocked his head back towards her door. "Buzz off."

As she turned back for the handle, her front door swung open. Her father, who for the first time in a few months had come looking for her, appeared from the dimly lit entrance. "Pepper?" His sight swung from her angry-but-fading look to Butch, who had his cigarette in his mouth twisted to the side with that stupid fucking grin. "It's bedtime." James shot his blank, analytical stare at the young man and glanced at his daughter. "Say goodnight to Butch."

"Goodnight Butch." She snipped back semi-sweetly, more at her father than anything. How embarrassing – now she was going to be called 'daddy's girl' again. Looking back at the boy who was heading towards the fire escape door, Pepper caught his eye. He gave her that soft-eyed smart smile that told her she was definitely not going to look forward to Monday.

"Night, nosebleed." He gestured her off, snatching his jacket from the staircase railings and slipping it up and onto his shoulders – lighting his smoke with the scrape of a lighter before throwing himself out the supposedly alarmed fire door with his rattling bag in tow. James ushered his daughter inside, away from the pelt of air that burst from the slam and click of locks.

"Why do you let him call you that?" The doctor asked her as he trailed in behind her, watching the young girl head straight for bed.

The longer he waited for a response, the more he knew she didn't know. But she broke his assumption with an "Because I like it. Whatever dad."


	2. two

_Apparently you guys want this updated, so here's part two! I'm sorry it's short, I'll have to lengthen out the next one to make up for it! _

_I want to thank__** Leyshla Gisel**__, my lovey __**Ghoulmask**__ and __**lisemichelle**__ for letting me know how they feel about Goin' Steady - really helps with my confidence for this story and lets me know it's worth writing!_

_Obviously there are some things in this chapter that may seem a little off, as in the whole understanding of the world around them, but I wanna remind you that I'm shufflin' things. Let me shuffle. I got this guys, I got it._

Mercy - Lorrie & Larry Collins

* * *

"And the closest fallen bomb to us is? Amata?"

The girl had to scramble for an answer.

"Megaton." She breathed, thrilled with her obviously right answer. Things were going well for her that day, as Freddie had also combed his hair quite well that morning – it really was hard not to stare. So distracting – how he managed to be so pale and pink at the same time. "It's not disarmed, is it? That's what my father told me."

The kids in the class perked up, each individually running through the motions of their inescapable doom. "Not yet." Mr Brotch leant back into his chair on two legs. He was not a fan of his job, but he kept it just formal enough for them to still cringe away when he raised his voice. "And why is it still active? Amata?"

She thought for an answer. "The remaining survivors and early settlers agreed to keep it alive – as a reminder of the devastation the Great War had caused and to remind us that civilisation is fragile."

"Good answer," the man rocked back onto four legs "which is why Megaton is now a thriving town a couple of miles down the road." He loved breaking the news to the kids – most would be horrified, but there was always those couple of kids whose eyes shone with some form of admiration. It was a perk to a boring job – he had to admit – but why did he let his mother talk him into teaching?

"And what would happen to us…" a voice asked from up the back, sounding like Christine Kendall. "You know, if it exploded?"

Brotch let out an almost bored sigh. "We'd be fine."

There was collective slump from the class that brightened his day. Obviously the education system had gone down the drain – teachers were still underpaid and underappreciated. It had been the same since he had been at school, and the same for his mother and her mother and so on so forth. It was a noble profession, sure, and it wasn't as bad as slogging away his life as a trash burner.

"And why would we be fine?" He asked his only class of the day, starting to pack his stationery into a faded pencil case. Amata's hand slowly slunk up and the teacher let out a knowing grin. "Amata?"

"Because the block is specifically engineered to keep us safe from any outside threats."

"Perfect answer." He stood, gathering his stuff as the students began to pack up their belongings. "And what do we learn from that? Everyone?"

"The block is our only home." They all chanted miserably.

"And we love the block." Brotch finished, heading towards the ceiling latch, unlocking the hidden door covered above in fake grass. "Class dismissed. Come on, go enjoy the afternoon sun."

Gluing themselves together from the moment they escaped their desks, Freddie, Amata and Pepper started off towards the stairs. "I have to run this afternoon, guys – dad wants me to work on my self-defence with him again." The boy scratched the top of his head, stepping aside to let Susie and Christine breeze past with a whiff of perfume.

"Again?" Pepper spun at him, caught by Brotch's hand on her shoulder. She turned to face her teacher, losing her friends as they filed out the door. "Wait for me, Amata!"

"Okay!"

"Is everything okay, Mr Brotch?" She asked, tugging her bag closer to her to avoid getting jostled by the Tunnel Snakes who were laughing their way out of the shelter. He waited until the last boot was out before turning to his student.

"You don't seem to be performing as well in your independent studies this term, Pepper." He told her, rustling through the sheets in his bag to pull out her latest essay. Her eyes widened momentarily and she sent him a sheepish look.

"It's been a weird semester, Mr Brotch." She groaned apologetically, waving the essay away to avoid a talking-to. "I'll try harder, I promise-" she backed towards the door, not willing to spend any more time in the dank classroom.

"I could have fixed your G.O.A.T. if you wanted me to." He sighed at her sternly, voice fading as she fled the scene. "It's a bit too late now, though!"

"I know, I know! Life decisions have been made." She waved off his lecture with the flats of her palms, heading up the stairs to the outside world. "Have a good afternoon, Mr Brotch!"

"You too, Pepper." She heard him reply flatly as the slipped out from the bomb shelter, pressing her boots into the astroturf to find Amata crowded in a group of leather. An irritated whine left her throat when she registered the faces of the assailants – it just seemed to be one thing after the other.

"I could show you _my _tunnel snake, if you'd like Amata." The leader was crooning at the girl, the arm around her shoulder almost too casual for such sexual assault. Pepper could already feel the angry heat radiating from the Block Captain's daughter.

"I'd love that." She spat back at them, failing to shrug him off. "So I could cut it off."

The boys howled with amusement and Amata's cheeks tinged a dark pink from the naughtiness – Pepper pushing between Wally and Paul to break up the circle. The nicer girl brightened, finally slipping free from the Snake's grasp to hover around her friend. The dark-haired heroine sent a stern look at the boys, taking steps back to escape a fiasco.

"Keep your gross comments to yourself, asshole." Pepper sniffed at Butch before the girls started off towards the painted trees by the north wall. It was a nice place to study in the afternoon sun while the block shade was open – and there was absolutely nothing else to do there, so it kept the miscreants away.

"The only gross thing I see is your face, nosebleed." He called after her and she burnt with shame. Amata stiffened beside her, keeping pace towards the faded green and brown paint that was chipping from the block's walls.

"That wasn't even half an insult." Her friend muttered back, Pepper adjusting her clothes in a fit of self-consciousness. "There's nothing gross about your face at all."

"But he's a boy!" Pepper whispered back, throwing up an obligatory middle finger over her shoulder at the boys guffawing behind them.

"He's not a boy – he's a monster." Amata sent a look up to her friend before catching the rude finger at full mast. "And put that down! Have some class about it, Pepper."

"Class." She grumbled, spinning back around to raise the other hand to signal the boys. They seemed to bristle a little at her small protest. "_FuuUUuck_ you!" She called back, waving her arms with smooth enthusiasm. Amata huffed loudly.

It was too late to stop anything else though, because the leader of the pack was pulling at his jacket with false arousal.

"Come on then, baby!" He called to Pepper, scalding her ears with humiliation. "Come take a piece of the Butchman!"

Sticking her thumbnail in her mouth, the Block Chaplain-in-training thought over her predicament. What did he want her to do? Squeal and run away like a flustered schoolgirl? He was already digging his hand down the front of his jeans to pull out his middle finger – starting her feet off back into his direction.

She was just as shocked as he looked as she headed towards him, holding her bag across her front as some form of body-hiding shield as Amata squealed uncomfortably. "What are you doing? You're not seriously going to go-" with her voice caught in her throat, Amata hurried on after her friend in attempt to drag her back. "Pepper!"

But our heroine was already up in his business, standing at the same height (maybe that _tiny_ bit taller) as our Tunnel Snake. He was grinning at her with that velvety, crude mouth of his – turning that toothpick between his teeth as she stared across at him. She could see the faint freckles that marked his sharp cheeks and she realised someone had to name a new colour after the pink of his lips – which made her more irritable by the second. Why was such an 'attractive' boy such an asshole! There was no in-between with life for some reason.

"I guess that answers it then, boys." The main man breathed at his gang, who were frozen by the sudden confrontation. "Sheridan's got a crush on me."

She leant back and sent the heel of her boot to meet his toes, blinded by a flash of red that burnt her sight. Pepper felt she didn't do too much damage, but there was a roar from the confused boys as the attention of the entire block was called to them. She swore she saw his ego actually bruise like an old, rehydrated apple, which lit her up inside.

"You're so fucking lucky we don't beat on girls, Sheridan!" Wally Mack warned her as he checked on his friend, who was fixing up the stray hairs that had escaped in his trip backwards. "Are you alright, Butchman?"

"Yeah, yeah," he shrugged them off, kicking out his leg as if to shake himself of the pain "get the fuck off'a me." His brown eyes lit up with a weird sort of pride for the girl, watching her rub her hands together in shock before she was carted away by Amata. The taller girl stumbled a few steps back, popping her collar in attempt to hide her face. Not that it would help at all, but she felt a little better after doing it.

"Violence is _not _the answer, Pepper!" Amata lectured the instant she snapped the girl's concentration back to the real world and away from the Tunnel Snake's stare. "You're going to get in _so_ _much_ trouble!" The Block Captain's daughter could already see Officers Mack and Taylor heading towards them in their handsome blue Block Watcher's uniforms.

"What in the world is going on here, kids!" they could hear Taylor puffing from halfway across the grounds.

Butch was still trying to regain a comfortable stance, glancing over at the security that had come to break up his party. He could hear the girls' tittered squeaks a few feet away – probably out of fear of the punishment that was to come. No one had ever tried shit with the Butchman before, and he had to admit it was a little thrilling – especially keen on the fact that it was Pepper Sheridan that stood up to him.

"We're just playin' around, Stevie." Butch shrugged his excuse at Wally's older brother, completely blasé about the whole debacle. "Sheridan's just showin' us what she'd do to a Communist if one ever infiltrated our ranks or somethin'."

Wally scoffed loudly while Amata reeled back in shock. At least he actually listened in class.

"You don't need to be fightin' the Reds, young lady - you need to be studying for your midterms!" Officer Taylor warned her with a slender, old finger. "All of you! Who's gonna run the Block if none of you pass your tests!"

"Us, probably." Paul muttered back, folding his arms across his chest as the three boys began to slink back towards the old autoshop – their secret hideout that wasn't exactly a secret. "Later, losers."

The three of them snickered, walking backwards with a sarcastic wave of departure before they were off to their personal cigar lounge – hands shoved in pockets like they had nothing better to do. Pepper could see Wally whispering harsh words at Butch as they dawdled into the distance, turning their attention to the gristled old shed.

Amata excused them from the guards politely, which was one of the many perks that came with being friends with the Block Captain's daughter. Pepper was elated that she wasn't going to be sitting in Amata's father's office all afternoon, considering the last time she stepped out of her gender boundaries she was chastised like a freedom fighter for telling Wally Mack to put his dick in the electrical pencil sharpener.

He still hadn't, and every day without it was a sad day for the future of Block 101. If settling down with a Block 101 boy was the only way to a normal and happy future, she was going to have to sit down and write a note to the Block Captain about the possibilities of inbreeding already washing through the system. Wally Mack sure looked a little funny some days… they had set her up from the start!

She was almost glad to be Chaplain. At least she never had to settle down with one of the bastards.

* * *

"You definitely left a bruise."

Pepper gripped the staircase railing and laughed.

"Yeah, well, he deserved it." She replied, leaning her forearms on the sheening teak with enthusiasm. "I don't know how you can put up with him."

"Same reason everyone puts up with him." Paul explained gently, glancing at faded door of Unit One. "He's not that bad when he likes you."

"So as long as he's not picking on you, he's a decent guy?" She asked with a roll of her eyes, straightening up to pull the tail of her cardigan from bunching on her back.

"If you can't beat 'em…" The boy stated shamefacedly. "I gotta get running though, Pepper. Dad will be wondering where I am, and if he catches me down here-"

"Yeah, yeah." She pushed herself back towards her apartment. "Night, Paul."

He mustered his most friendly smile and propelled himself up the steps, waiting in front of the creaky, old elevator that would take him to floor 4. Pepper was already wringing with annoyance, because she had considered Paul her friend. He was a bit of a pushover when it came to Butch DeLoria – but then again, so was everyone. The boy had a domineering personality that left everyone in the dirt.

And that asshole may have been King of the Block as far as everyone was concerned, but Pepper was not going to have any of it. The next time she saw him she was going to give him a piece of her mind, and then was going to laugh at his limp.

The fire escape door shuddered gently, and was jostled open with a soft _creak_. Pepper felt her heart stop beating for a second, her entire body cursing the small transmitter in her head that was obviously broadcasting her thoughts into the plains every time she thought about him.

Because there he was, flicking the butt of his smoke out into the darkness to burn a tiny black hole into the fake, green grass. He turned to find her standing there and very obviously cringed away, catching himself awkwardly. There was a ding when the elevator reached the second floor, leaving Butch to catch Paul's eye as he escaped into the metal box that took him away from the slums.

The Tunnel Snake lost no face, however, shucking off his jacket to chuck it onto the bannister almost gently. "It's after curfew, nosebleed." He reminded her as he headed for his door, turning and giving her a grin as he unlocked his apartment.

"Should a girl really take advice from you?" She returned the sly smile and felt blindly behind her back for the doorknob to her hallway.

"Apparently not." He responded, turning the door handle quietly – hitching the door open just a tad before stopping himself. "You goin'ta bed?"

"I…" She spat out with a childlike gawkiness "Well, it _is _after curfew."

He scoffed a laugh at her. "Yeah." He inched the door further in. "So?"

"So what?" Her knees were actually shaking – so overdone with adrenalin that she could have died on the spot just from overexertion. Fuck those teenage feelings; she was supposed to be an adult! She was 18 now – and she understood what life was about! Adults weren't supposed to get weak in the knees over dumb 'boys', and they _definitely_ didn't stumble over their words like mangy little girls.

But she was a mangy little girl! She couldn't control her hair and her father still sent her to bed at nine! She wasn't cut out for talking to handsome boys (what an asshole!), especially ones with a bad smoking habit and more leather than brains. This was too much for her to handle… she had to go to bed.

"Come on, let's go have a talk."

"A talk?"

"Yeah, a talk."

He was going to kill her or something. He was going to take her to the autoshop and beat her up, because she could not comprehend the idea of him wanting anything like a 'talk' with her. Or… Or he wanted to hold her hand.

_Holy shit, _she froze up at his words, dead in the water, _this is too much to handle. I have to go to bed._

He was so much easier to deal with when he was being an asshole – at least she didn't have to like him then. She hoped that now that she had 'dealt' with him he wouldn't be nice to her, because then she would have to have be nice to him and things would be too much to handle. And she would have to stay in bed forever.

"I-"

"Come on." He drawled at her, raising his voice from a whisper to a very audible drone. "I'm not gonna hurt ya if you don't want me to." He teased and she gagged lamely.

"Wha-"

"This-!" He paused to laugh at her. "I can't even take you seriously, nosebleed, you look fuckin' stupid right now." He leant his shoulder to the door frame. He pulled a charming rendition of her face and she straightened up haughtily. "What I was trying to say is, well, if you're not too busy being a bug-eyed loser, come for a chat with me."

"A chat." She sniffed, trying to calm herself down by turning constant chant of every horrible thing he had ever said about her. "With you?" Just because he had a nice face didn't mean he was able to sweep her off her feet and off into the fucking sunset like some flamboyant prince or some shit-

"What the fuck do you want me to call it?" His palms opened in front of him in question. "Let's have a fucking _heart-to-heart_, Pepper… I mean," he thought his words over for a second or so, holding onto her with his pause "my foot fucking pains, babe, and I respect your attitude." Teasing her gently and tugging the blush into her cheeks, his eyes skimmed her door. Pepper picked up on his sudden caution, hearing the slight squeak in the floorboards behind her.

It was probably her father, and the two of them caught each other's eye. His were wicked and alight and hers were dull with confusion. He watched her bite her lip in thought, backing into his apartment smoothly.

"Let me go to bed, Butch." She told him plainly, but her lips tugged up into a grin he suddenly mirrored. He flashed up two fingers and she nodded, turning the handle to the sound of footsteps quickly fleeing down the hall.


End file.
